The clerk’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you bring any proof of this with you?”
Elle shook her head. “No, but I can get it.”
“Well, when you get it, bring it back up here, and we’ll try again.” The clerk had already dismissed Elle from her mind. “Next!”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Elle noticed it was nine o’clock in the morning. If she left now, she could be in Montgomery in two and a half hours. That would put her arriving at Doctor Ingram’s around eleven thirty. But she would be cutting it close to pick up Sarah from school.
Elle left the courthouse, fishing out her cell phone as she went. She put in a call to Mrs. Gordon.
“Hello?” Ida Mae answered on the second ring.
“Ida Mae, it’s Elle. I went to the courthouse to file for an annulment.”
A brief pause ensued, then, “I’m sorry Elle. That couldn’t have been easy. How did it go?”
“Not good. Grounds for an annulment in the state of Georgia is only if one or both spouses was mentally incompetent at the time of the marriage ceremony.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Ida Mae grumbled, obviously not happy about the law. “That means you’ll have to ask Evan for a divorce.”
Elle unlocked the car and climbed behind the wheel. She inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine. “Maybe not. I can go to Montgomery and get my medical records from Doctor Ingram. That should probably work with the courts.”
Ida Mae grew quiet another moment. “Who is Doctor Ingram?”
Elle pulled out of the parking lot and took a right onto a back street that would lead her toward the interstate. “He was the psychiatrist that treated me back in Montgomery.”
“I see. What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to drive to Montgomery to try to get a copy of my records. Would you mind picking up Sarah from school today? I’m not sure I can be back in time to collect her.”
Ida Mae didn’t hesitate. “Of course I’ll get her. You drive safe, and I’ll see you when you get back.”
Elle wanted to say something—anything to convey to Ida Mae exactly how much she appreciated everything she’d done for her. But all she could manage was a weak, “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me, girl. You just do what needs doing and know that you can count on me.” She ended the call.
Chapter Thirty
Elle arrived at the psychiatric hospital in Montgomery where she’d gone shortly before her miscarriage.
She sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes, reliving the memories, the feelings surrounding her brief stay under Doctor Ingram’s care.
Ingram had tried to help her; she knew that now. She wondered what would have become of her if she hadn’t run. If she’d simply returned to her room in the psyche ward and continued her sessions with Doctor Ingram.
Would she have gone on to murder those men in Atlanta? Probably so. Monsters such as the ones she’d killed didn’t deserve to go on living in a society with innocent children. Yeah, Elenore might not have had the guts to end the lives of those monsters… But Elle definitely did.
Exiting the vehicle, Elle took a deep breath and strode up the sidewalk to the double doors. She bypassed the front desk, taking the elevator to the second floor where Doctor Ingram’s office resided.
“Elenore? Elenore Griffin?”
Elle turned in time to see an orderly she recognized coming up the hall behind her.
“It’s really good to see you, Elenore. How are you doing?”
The last thing Elle wanted was to stand in the hall and make small talk with the orderly. No matter how good he’d been to her during her stay.
Pasting on a smile she was sure didn’t reach her eyes, Elle murmured, “I’m doing good. I was hoping to speak with Doctor Ingram.”
The door Elle stood in front of suddenly opened to admit a surprised-looking Doctor Ingram. “Elenore?”
The orderly thankfully moved on, leaving Elle alone with the psychiatrist.
“Hi, Doctor Ingram. Do you have a minute to help me with something?”
The doctor glanced at his watch, gave a quick nod, and pulled the door wider. “Sure. I have a few minutes before my next session.”
Elle entered the office and took a seat in front of the massive desk.
Ingram moved around behind the desk and sat facing her. “What can I do for you, Elenore?”
Elle fidgeted in the face of the doctor. He knew things about her, things she’d rather no one know.
Attempting to hold his intimidating gaze, Elle stated, “I need to get a copy of my records. I mean, from my time in this hospital.”
Ingram leaned back in his chair, assessing her over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Okay. But it would be easier to have your current doctor request them.”
“I-I don’t have a current doctor. Is there another way I can get them?”
Ignoring her question, Ingram countered with one of his own. “You haven’t been under the care of anyone since you left here?”
Anxiety began to take hold. She didn’t want or need Ingram’s prying. “I-I just need to get a copy of my records.”
He stared at her for a moment longer. “Okay. You’ll need to go down to the first floor to the records department. They will give you what we have. Since it’s not requested from a physician, I believe they will charge you per page.”
Elle pushed to her feet. “That’s fine. I have money.”
She turned to go, only to pause at the doctor’s next words. “You really should think about seeing someone, Elenore. The issues you’ve had to face over the years don’t simply go away on their own.”
Elle reached for the doorknob, keeping her back to the psychiatrist. “There is no help for me, Doctor Ingram. There never was.” With that, she left his office.
Bypassing the elevator, Elle took the stairs down to the first floor. She stood there, attempting to calm her nerves, with little success.
The look in Doctor Ingram’s eyes had nearly taken her back to the terrified shell of a girl she’d been not so long ago. If not for Evan, she would still be that person.
But Evan hadn’t given up on her. He’d accepted her for exactly who and what she was. He had rescued her from a life of abuse, taken her into his care, and given her a home. Without once asking for anything in return.
And for that reason, Elle knew she had to leave.
She would ruin Evan’s life if she stayed. Her sins would eventually catch up with her, and in turn, take Evan down with her.
Evan had a good life in Atlanta. He had Ida Mae next door who would be all too happy to help him with Sarah.
Ah, Sarah. The daughter that Elle never had, nor ever would have.
Though Elle could never love Evan the way he needed to be loved, she had no such problems with loving Sarah. Elle had killed for that little girl. And would continue to do so over and over if she didn’t go.
If Evan were caught harboring a murderer, not only would he likely go to jail, but he would lose his daughter in the process. And Elle would die before she’d allow Sarah to be in the system.
The little girl had already lost her mother; she wouldn’t lose her father as well. Elle would see to it.
And then there was Ida Mae. The one true friend Elle had ever had. Even more so than Evan. Where Elle could never confide in Evan the things she’d done, she had opened up to Ida Mae without question. And the elderly neighbor hadn’t judged her. In fact, she’d helped her and opened her arms, her home, and her heart to Elle.
Yeah, Elle would miss them all. They had managed to do in a few short months what no one had been able to do in Elle’s entire life. Burrow into Elle’s heart…
Chapter Thirty-One
Elle arrived home that evening with her medical records in hand. Though she’d had to endure more attitude than was probably necessary from the women in the record’s department, she got what she went for.
After phoning Ida Mae to find out that Sarah ha
d just finished dinner and was now in the bath, Elle headed for Evan’s office.
She flipped on the light, took a seat at the desk, and booted up the laptop.
Opening the folder that she still held in her hand, she flipped through the papers there until she found what she searched for: dissociative identity disorder.
Typing in the medical term on the laptop, Elle read the findings. Multiple personality disorder: Also known as dissociative identity disorder. A neurosis in which the personality becomes dissociated into two or more distinct parts, each of which becomes dominant and controls behavior from time to time to the exclusion of the other parts.
Next, she typed in can dissociative identity disorder go away?
The following findings were not what Elle wanted to read. Treatment and Prognosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). DID will not simply go away on its own—in fact, DID symptoms often become worse over time, particularly if other disorders are also co-occurring.
Her stomach dropped. Would she truly grow worse over time?
Unable to continue reading, Elle closed out the screen and went to Ida Mae’s to retrieve Sarah.
The little girl sat at the kitchen table, doing her homework. Her face lit up when she noticed Elle. “We already ate. I saved you some.”
Elle’s heart squeezed. It was going to kill her to have to leave Sarah behind.
She forced a smile. “I’m not hungry, but I thank you for thinking about me.”
Ida Mae stepped forward. “Go on and finish your homework, Sarah. Me and Elle have to talk grownup stuff.”
Sarah nodded and went back to her books.
Elle followed Ida Mae into the den and took a seat in a chair across from the couch. Ida lowered herself onto the edge of the sofa cushion. “What did you find out?”
“It took some doing, but I managed to get my medical records from the hospital in Montgomery. I’m taking them back to the courthouse in the morning and filing for the annulment.”
Ida Mae nodded. “Have you thought anymore about where you’ll go?”
“Yes. A small country in Southeastern Europe called Montenegro.”
The elderly woman’s eyes grew misty. “That sounds very romantic. I would have loved to have visited Europe in my youth.” She got unsteadily to her feet and retrieved what looked like an overnight bag from next to the sofa. Setting it next to Elle’s feet, she returned to her previous perch on the couch.
“What is this?” Elle asked, searching Mrs. Gordon’s gaze.
Ida Mae waved a hand in the direction of the bag. “Go on and open it.”
Elle pulled the bag to a position between her feet and unzipped the top. Her breath caught. Several stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills rested inside the bag. “Oh my God, Ida Mae. What is this?”
“It’s a hundred thousand dollars.”
Elle’s jaw dropped open. “You’re giving this to me?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t take this, Mrs. Gordon. It’s too much!”
“When my husband passed years ago,” Ida Mae began, a faraway look in her eyes, “I received a rather hefty sum of insurance money. Plus, his social security check and his retirement fund. Not to mention my own social security and retirement. My home is paid for in full, as is my car. What am I going to do with all that money? I can’t take it with me when I die.”
Elle rezipped the bag, her emotions all over the place. She had no idea how to compartmentalize them all. They quickly became overwhelming and painful to the point where they leaked from her eyes in the form of tears. “Ida Mae…”
Mrs. Gordon jumped from that sofa as fast as her elderly legs would allow. She closed the distance between them and wrapped Elle in her arms. “There, there.”
Elle openly cried, not knowing what else to do or how to control the feelings slamming into her all at once. She felt gratefulness, fear, panic, and love… So much love. “Come with me, Ida Mae.”
Mrs. Gordon momentarily stilled, but then her hands began to run up and down Elle’s back. “I can’t go with you, girl. This is my home. I’ve lived here most of my life. Besides, what on earth would I do with myself in a place like Montenegro? I’m far too old to be starting over.”
More tears fell. “You’re not too old, Ida Mae. You’ve got at least twenty good years left.”
Pulling back, Ida Mae cleared her throat and nodded toward the bag resting between Elle’s feet. “Take that money and make a life for yourself in Montenegro. Forget all the bad… Start fresh in a place where you have no past and no memories.” She turned and left the room, leaving a teary-eyed Elle alone with her tattered emotions and one hundred thousand dollars.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Evan turned up the television in his room at the rehab center, his attention glued to the headlines and the anchorwoman briefing the public on the recent deaths of two men in Evan’s neighborhood.
According to the police, one of the deaths had been deemed a murder, while the other was yet to be determined. Both deaths were under investigation.
The newswoman went on to divulge some similarities in the victims: that the two men lived alone, resided in the same neighborhood, and both were registered sex offenders. And apparently, there was a possible witness. Someone had spotted what appeared to be a girl running through the streets mere minutes before the explosion at Carl Erwin’s house. The girl’s identity was yet to be known due to the fact she’d worn a hoodie.
A strange sensation slid through Evan. Though murder wasn’t unheard of in Atlanta, it was a little more than odd, the similarities between the victims.
An image of Elenore floated through his mind, but he shook it off as quickly as it appeared. Elenore wouldn’t know anything about either case. Evan was undoubtedly being overly paranoid.
And then guilt set in. If Elenore had any idea that Evan had even thought of her in conjunction with the two deaths, it would hurt her badly.
Yet, no matter how much he attempted to brush off his unwanted thoughts, they continued to trickle back in against his will.
He reasoned that it was the sex offender status of the victims that caused his suspicions of Elenore. If there was anything she despised most in the world, it was sex offenders. Not that Evan blamed her; he hated them with a passion also.
The niggling doubt continued the longer he listened to the news report. A witness had seen a woman running through the streets shortly before the explosion. Could that woman have been Elenore?
“May I come in?” a nurse called from the open doorway, pulling Evan out of his suspicious contemplating. He recognized her as Betty.
Switching off the television, he sent her a lopsided grin. “Of course, as long as that’s a pound cake you’re holding in your hands.”
Betty easily returned his smile. “It’s not, but I could probably arrange for one, if that’s what you really want.”
He did want some pound cake, but he wanted to go home even more. “Any news? And what is that you’re carrying?”
“I do have news. And I have no idea what this is. It was delivered today from a…” She plucked up a small card resting on top. “Sheriff Donnie King.”
Placing the package on Evan’s bedside table, Betty set about checking his legs. “If we can keep up the momentum we have going, as well as the continuous improvement, the doctor says you should be able to go home in the next two weeks.”
Evan blew out a relieved breath. The pretty nurse had just given him the best news he’d gotten since his shooting. “Thank you, Betty.”
“You’re welcome. I thought that might make you feel better.”
She glanced at her watch. “Your therapist will be ready for you in half an hour. I’ll send someone to get you in about twenty minutes.”
“Okay. Thank you, Betty.”
Once the nurse left, Evan reached for the phone on his bedside table and put in a call to Horace Rushing, Atlanta PD’s police chief.
“Rushing here.”
“Hey, Chief, it’s Evan
Ramirez. You got a second?”
“Of course. How are you doing?”
“I’m better, sir. They released me from the hospital and sent me to rehab for extensive therapy. If things continue to improve, I should be going home in the next two weeks.”
“That’s wonderful news, Detective. What can I do for you?”
Choosing his words carefully, Evan spoke as calmly as he could. “I just saw on the news that there were two house fires near my home. It’s been determined that one of the victims was murdered, and they’re investigating the second one. My wife and daughter are in that same neighborhood. Do I have anything to be concerned about?”
“I don’t believe so, Detective. Looks to me like predators are being targeted. But I have no evidence to back that up. Other than the fact that both victims are in the system for child molestation. But if it makes you feel any better, we do have officers patrolling the neighborhood.”
It did make him feel better. Somewhat. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mention it. Now, get better and know that you always have a position here with us, Detective.”
Evan thanked him again and hung up the phone.
He then reached for the package from Sheriff Donnie King. Ripping the paper free, he grinned, noticing a tin of cookies inside. According to the card attached, they were from Gerald’s Diner.
A part of Evan missed Wexler, with its small-town feel and moss-covered trees. But his daughter’s home had always been Atlanta, and Evan would keep her there… For the time being.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elle approached Evan’s room, noticing through the half-open door that he sat up in bed holding a round tin container in his hands.
He looked up as she stepped forward. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing here?”
Her stomach clenched. How was she supposed to tell him of the annulment? He looked so happy to see her.
She glanced nervously around the room. “I came to talk to you about something.”
Elle Unleashed: A Gripping Psychological Thriller with a Twist Page 10
